The Prodigal Prince's Seduction (Castaldini Crown 2)
Page 2The ballroom door closed, severing the mesmerism of those azure twin stars he had for eyes.
A tremor hit her. A second hit harder. Then a deluge broke out, until she was shaking like a rag in a storm.
What was wrong with her? She was the one who was supposed to surprise him into agreeing to give her that hour. To make a solid pitch before he asked questions. Especially about who she was. She’d wanted to eliminate—or at least postpone—the prejudice her name had already elicited from him. She’d wanted a fair hearing.
But seeing him in the flesh, even from the back, had almost blanked her mind. Then he’d turned, and everything had vanished.
She’d forgotten where she was, what she was supposed to say, could only stare at him. She’d moved only when the tractor beam of his will had forced her forward for his inspection. And boy, had he inspected. She’d felt…inspected down to her cellular level.
Then, those people had charged him, saved her from doing that rag-in-the-storm impression in his presence. They’d also taken him away before he’d said yes. And he’d been about to. Or she could have been imagining that, along with his surreal impact on her.
Imagining shimagining. She was a thirty-year-old divorcée who hadn’t had fantasies even as a young girl. Being the only child of parents whose marriage had sunk daily into the dark realities of bankruptcy and depression hadn’t been conducive to flights of fancy.
That was part of the convoluted journey that had brought her here today, on a mission to save her own company from bankruptcy, while repaying the man who’d supported her family during those desperate years. King Benedetto of Castaldini—Prince Durante’s father.
She’d since insisted on repaying her family’s debts with interest. But while she’d needed to settle the financial debt, she’d always cling to the emotional one.
It had been because of that bond, along with what had been solid financial advice at the time, that she’d invested heavily in stocks and assets in Castaldini. It was partly why Le Roi Enterprises, her publishing company, was in trouble now. The kingdom had been hit by a steep recession after the king’s stroke six months ago.
His condition had been hushed up until his recovery hadn’t conformed to his doctors’ optimism. His grim prognosis had leaked out, and Castaldini’s stock market had crashed like a meteor.
He’d called her a couple of weeks ago, requesting a video meeting. He’d said he had a solution to all her problems. She remembered that call…
She’d waited for the meeting to start, contemplating how to turn down his offer of more help. It was one thing to settle her father’s debts and see to their household upkeep, but another to float a company with multinational subsidiaries. She didn’t think he could afford anything of this magnitude now. And she couldn’t be so deeply indebted again, even to him. She’d been so driven to repay her family’s debt that she’d done something as crazy as marry Ed. But…could she afford to turn down help, when hundreds of people depended on her for their jobs?
Then a stranger came onto the screen. It was several dropped heartbeats before she realized it was the king. The incredibly fit and virile seventy-four-year-old man she’d last seen seven months ago at her mother’s funeral had metamorphosed into an emaciated, hundred-year-old version of himself.
Tears surged behind her eyes, at seeing him like that, at the acrid thankfulness that her mother’s illness had been quick and merciless so that she hadn’t suffered his fate, hadn’t lasted long enough to see her beauty almost mummified.
The wan rasp that used to be the surest baritone forced a tear to escape her control. She wiped it away, pretending to sweep her hair back. “I-it’s good to see you, too, King Benedetto.”
His smile was resigned, conciliatory. “No need to tiptoe around me, Gaby. I know that seeing me must be a shock for you. But I had to speak to you face-to-face as I ask you this incalculable favor.”
He was asking, not offering, a favor? She didn’t see how that could solve her problems, but the very idea of being of service to him infused her with energy and purpose.
“Anything, King Benedetto. Ask me anything.”
“You once wanted to approach Durante with a book offer.”
She frowned, nodded. She’d asked him how best to approach his elusive son with an offer for a motivational biography, when the enigmatic media-magnet had turned down every offer to publish anything about his life. The king had told her to forget it.
That had been before her mother’s death and she’d since forgotten about it, along with every plan she’d had, lacking the drive to pursue anything new that required focus and determination. Her grief was dulling to a pervasive, crippling coldness, and there was nothing and no one to ameliorate it.
Only the employees who’d lose their jobs and the causes she’d be unable to contribute to if she threw in the towel had kept her going, just enough to keep her head above water.
“I feel responsible for your company’s problems.”
The king’s rasp dragged her back to the moment. She blinked.
“Please, don’t, King Benedetto. It’s not your fault.”
She bit her lip on much more. Her company’s decline had started with the discovery of her mother’s terminal illness, and its slow death had begun when a part of her had died with her mother, a part she didn’t know how to resuscitate, didn’t feel like trying. Castaldini’s recession had just been the last straw.